


Magical Innovations in Essay Grading

by Regan_V



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regan_V/pseuds/Regan_V
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape stared at the stack of essays on his desk.  For some reason, the heap seemed to have grown even larger while he'd gone off to make a cup of tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magical Innovations in Essay Grading

**Author's Note:**

> This was written originally for Sociofemme

Snape stared at the stack of essays on his desk. For some reason, the heap seemed to have grown even larger while he'd gone off to make a cup of tea. 

He counted them. No. There were still 27 left there to mark up. The stack just _looked_ larger, for some reason.

Perhaps someone had entered his quarters and cast a hex on the essays, during the night. 

He smiled thinly, remembering the spell he had personally created during Potter's third year for the werewolf, and cast on the other teacher's desk while he was out sick after a full moon: as Lupin neared the end of each stack of papers, the markings on those at the bottom of the pile would quietly vanish, leaving the work to be redone. Lupin had been so exhausted and befuddled after each full moon that it had taken months for him to catch on.

Snape pulled out his wand, and checked his desk and quarters carefully for any tampering. Everything seemed to be in order.

He sighed, and sat back down, quill in hand. Looking at the essay on top, he decided for the tenth time that Longbottom had indeed accomplished the seemingly impossible: he had produced a daughter even stupider than her father. 

Snape felt a stab of pure existential despair, and considered resigning his teaching position for the fiftieth time that week. But then he remembered the warm meal that would be waiting for him that evening, and the shelter that Hogwarts offered against attacks from those who'd lost relatives on both sides, and who somehow blamed him. 

The five years after the war, before his name had been cleared enough to allow Minerva to rehire him, had been a very lean and risky time. It wasn't worth going back to that life. Not even getting away from the essays was worth it. 

So, no. He squared his shoulders and dipped the quill in the red ink.

If he'd been doing anything other than marking, he would have ignored the knock on his door, when it came. But anything had to be an improvement, so Snape went to answer it.

It was a near thing, however, he conceded, sneering down his nose at Potter. But Potter was a rather good-looking distraction, as such things went. He stepped aside and let his younger colleague in.

"Yes?"

"I wondered if you were busy this afternoon?"

"As you see, I have marking to do."

Potter considered the stack of essays on Snape's desk somewhat dubiously, and shrugged. "So do I, but somehow I couldn't face it just yet. Want to have tea first?" Potter wasn't an idiot. 

He remembered what had happened the last time Potter stopped by on a weekend afternoon, and summoned a fresh pot of tea.

Potter drank his tea in silence for a minute or so, and then put his cup down, slid over on the sofa, a bit closer to Snape. "I thought you might want to, er, again . . . " 

He leaned toward Snape, who calmly caught Potter's hands and pulled them down to rest on each side of his own hips. He slid his hands up under Potter's T shirt, and pinched the nipples, then used his nails to scratch lightly down the sides of Potter's ribs. Potter shivered and bit his lower lip, and allowed Snape pull the shirt off over his head, and then push him backwards gently, until he was flat on his back. 

Snape crawled on top of Potter, and felt him lift his hips to thrust up against him. Potter stared at him through half-closed eyes, as Snape bent forward to swipe a tongue across the base of his throat. Potter's skin tasted both savory and salty.

He began to work his way down Potter's chest, sucking gently on one nipple, and heard Potter moan. Snape smiled against Potter's chest. The spell he'd cast on _Potter's_ desk had been a real improvement over the one he'd used for the werewolf, years before. Every time Potter sat down to grade, he'd become restless and maddeningly aroused. 

And Snape planned to be available in his quarters, regularly.


End file.
